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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27665978">Simply Logical</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolofaperegrin/pseuds/iclaimedtobethebetterbard'>iclaimedtobethebetterbard (foolofaperegrin)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Logan in a skirt, Remus being Remus, Sad Ending, Unhappy Ending, but nobody is intended to be unsympathetic, miscommunication is the villain here, roman is well-meaning but might come across as a lil unsympathetic, sides in skirts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:49:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,936</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27665978</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolofaperegrin/pseuds/iclaimedtobethebetterbard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Roman: Listen, the nerd is great, but his fashion sense? Not it. He’s probably going to pick something conventional in navy blue or black just to get this over with.<br/>emonightmare: i reiterate: harsh but u have a point. don’t pressure him abt it, pat. we don’t wanna make him uncomfortable.<br/>Prince Roman: Omg can you imagine if Logan DID wear something fancy for the skirt photoshoot though? Weird, right???<br/>emonightmare: sounds fake, probably janus in disguise lmao<br/>JeckyllandLied: Oh come on, just because you caught me before doesn’t mean I’m bad at disguises. I wouldn’t make a mistake as basic as THAT.</p>
<p>That was the last message; it had been sent twenty-seven minutes ago.<br/>Logan blinked hard several times until the suspicious dampness at the corner of his eyes receded. He pressed the backspace button and held it down until the link to the skirt he’d found was fully erased. The bubble of excitement in his chest had thoroughly popped and was settling into a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach.<br/>Logan bit his lip and began typing.</p>
<p>Logan: Can we please talk about something else?<br/>--<br/>or: Logan's fear of being ignored meets my Logan-in-a-skater-skirt agenda. Angst ensues.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anxiety | Virgil Sanders &amp; Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders &amp; Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders &amp; Morality | Patton Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders &amp; Logic | Logan Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders &amp; Logic | Logan Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders &amp; Logic | Logan Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders &amp; Morality | Patton Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders &amp; Thomas Sanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>106</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Simply Logical</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Before anyone comes for me about the pencil skirt: it is an excellent skirt and an excellent outfit! And I'm super glad Thomas clearly loves it, because his opinion is actually the only one that matters about what he wears. Heck, *I* even love it. This fic is absolutely not me saying that Thomas made a bad choice about the clothes to put on his body, because that is actually something that is impossible to do. I just really wanted to see Logan in a skater skirt and also happened to be having a bad day when the skirt pics dropped, so I decided to project onto Logan since he's my fave and write some cathartic angst about it. </p>
<p>However, all that being said: Logan deserves a skater skirt to twirl in; he also deserves to not feel like he has to be serious all the time in order to be valued and loved by c!Thomas; these two concepts are loosely related in that the first is one example of an expression of the second; I love Logan very much and think he deserves the world and also a skater skirt; and I will die on this hill, thank you very much.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was simply logical. </p>
<p>That was… true. It was true. Logan would know. It was a perfectly logical decision; it fit his persona and most of the fans had been practically begging for it. Neat. Sharp. Tidy. Serious. <em> Logical. </em> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>When Thomas had decided to start the series Sides in Skirts, Patton had gone first, of course; they’d all crowded around a laptop while he scrolled through endless pastel, A-line options, gasping and cooing over the designs, until he stopped and pointed and said with utmost certainty, “It’s <em> purr-fect!” </em> Virgil elbowed Logan lightly in the side when he sighed at the pun. </p>
<p>Roman gushed over the skirt, Virgil mumbled a shy affirmation; Janus glanced Patton up and down and said in an unfathomable tone that it was “...definitely you.” Remus said <em> something, </em> but nobody quite knew what, because Virgil suddenly regained his courage and began complimenting the skirt choice very loudly to drown Remus out. </p>
<p>And then everyone had been looking at Logan, and he’d still felt off-balance from Virgil’s gentle reprimand a minute ago. He hadn’t meant to be quiet so long. But now they were <em> looking </em> at him, expectantly, and his throat closed up with the thought that he must have done something wrong. </p>
<p>“It certainly fits your aesthetic. I’m sure it’s an adequate choice, though I hardly see why you require my input in such a subjective matter,” he’d managed, thoughts racing, not knowing what he should say—had the brief silence before he’d spoken been judgmental? Should he have cut in after Janus to say something? Had he hurt Patton’s feelings? Patton had so many of them, after all, and they were so soft and damageable. No matter how many lists Logan made of ways to be thoughtful towards Patton, he seemed to always do something wrong sooner or later. </p>
<p>“I think it’s a fantastic choice, Patton!” Thomas had said cheerfully, drawing everyone’s attention away from Logan as he added the skirt to his cart. “For the rest of you all, maybe start thinking about what kind of looks you’ll want to go for? We’ll probably do the next one in a couple of weeks.” </p>
<p>There was a general murmur of agreement from the group. </p>
<p>“I’m thinking a—” Remus was cut off by his own hand and gave Janus a <em> very </em> dirty look. Wresting his hand away from his mouth, “Really, Jan?” he demanded. “Why’d you add the J to your name if you’re just going to be an <em> anus </em> every time I—” </p>
<p>“Yes, yes, I know, I’m just the worst and you hate that I think of Patton’s comfort levels now.” Janus waved a hand dismissively, a bored look on his face. “I’m going to hazard a guess that whatever you were about to propose wouldn’t be something Thomas could post online anyway.” </p>
<p>“But boob windows are a thing!” Remus protested. “Why not—”</p>
<p>“Aaaand that’s all the detail I think we need to go into along this train of thought right now!” Thomas interrupted. “What about something glittery, Remus?” He glanced over Remus’s shoulder to Janus. </p>
<p>Remus narrowed his eyes. “Glittery?” he inquired suspiciously. </p>
<p>“Think of all the places it could get. Glitter for weeks. Months. Years, even,” Janus picked up smoothly. </p>
<p>Remus perked up. “It could get in our eyes! Remember that news story a few years back about the lady with a couple dozen contact lenses stuck in her eye because she kept forgetting to take them out?” </p>
<p>“Charming. Let’s be off, now.” Janus took Remus by the elbow and they began to sink out. </p>
<p>“I, too, shall depart! I must begin brainstorming ideas at <em> once,” </em> Roman gushed. “There are so many options! Knee length! Ballgown style! Mermaid! Side slit! Petticoats! Frills! Pleats! Panels! Oh, however will I <em> choose? </em> I can’t <em> wait!” </em> He twirled around and around, and Logan didn’t even realize he’d begun sinking out until he was halfway gone. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>After that, the rest of them had dispersed fairly quickly; Patton and Virgil had headed to the Mind Palace’s kitchen to bake cookies together, but Logan had politely declined the invitation to join them. He still felt bad about the earlier interactions and couldn’t shake the feeling that both of them were probably upset with him. Besides, the skirts idea was—intriguing. He had an academic interest in conducting preliminary research. Purely professional, of course. It was simply logical. No feelings involved. </p>
<p>But he was only able to fimply tamp down and quash and ignore the undeniable <em> feeling </em> of excitement in his chest for so long. </p>
<p>Logan started with simple research on what the different types of skirt options <em> were. </em> He walked to the blank space on the wall and held his hand up, palm flat, hovering about an inch away from the wall, until a glowing blue keypad faded into existence. He let it scan his hand—this was only something it did when he was alone, since it wasn’t strictly <em> necessary; </em> it just looked so cool—and keyed in his passcode. </p>
<p>The wall melted away, revealing his Archives. Every single one of Thomas’s memories, even the ones he couldn’t consciously recall, all neatly filed in a tremendous, ever-expanding library according to a system Logan had developed over the course of his life. Logan swiftly navigated the room; it was kept dark, fading into pitch-black in the distance, but the carpet had a pattern of constellations that glowed white, and the floating bookshelves emitted a light in a sci-fi-inspired shade of blue, and the light was more than enough to see by. Besides, Logan knew his way around. </p>
<p>His system was a lot more similar to the Dewey Decimal system now than it had been before Thomas was, oh, about fifteen; when he’d been a child, Logan had organized his library according to whatever whims made sense at the time. The system had gradually evolved into something a little more conventional over the years, but idiosyncrasies  remained. The memories of oranges were still filed next to lions because of the color of the stuffed animal Thomas had been so attached to in kindergarten. The memories of triangles were on the top shelf, because the points looked cool that way. And so on. Little details like that had survived. Purely for non-sentimental reasons, of course. It was more efficient to keep them in a system he was used to; he could find them quicker this way. </p>
<p>He stopped at the skirts aisle. Another glowing blue touchpad materialized when he held up his hand expectantly; he tapped and swiped to select the whole shelf. The system obligingly compressed the memories he’d indicated into a much smaller, more portable stack—the compressed memories now resembled SD cards blown up to about the size of Logan’s palm. They were much easier to carry than the little holograms he defaulted to for memories displaying on the shelves, and while the thick leather-bound books he opted for at other times were a little easier to handle than holograms, compression was still the best way to take multiple memories at a time out of the system to review. </p>
<p>Logan scooped up the stack of cards and made his way back to his room, the hidden door to the library sliding shut behind him as if it had never been there in the first place. He’d settled into an armchair with a mug of hot chocolate, wrapped up in a blanket, with the stack of memories easily accessible next to the laptop on the side table at his elbow. </p>
<p>He popped the memories open one at a time, shifting them into book format to read them and then pressing them back into the smaller card shape when he was done. At some point, Logan snapped his fingers and changed into his unicorn onesie; he was getting comfortable. When he finished reviewing the material Thomas already knew, he switched over to the laptop. </p>
<p>He started by googling a few of the terms he remembered Roman tossing out, as well as a few more that had caught his interest, and then looked up some general guides to terms used to describe skirts. </p>
<p>He had rather assumed he’d go for a pencil skirt. Fairly traditional. Sleek. Easy. It seemed the perfect, logical option. He’d found several that he liked well enough and would be amenable to wearing, and had even thought of a couple of outfit pieces that would pair well with them. </p>
<p>But. </p>
<p>The images of <em> pleated </em> skirts, especially the very wide pleats, had caught his attention. He’d been a little surprised by it—by the light, eager feeling bubbling up in his chest and filling his throat with anticipation and <em> want. </em> It would swish nicely as he walked, and it would <em> twirl. </em> It would twirl <em> perfectly. </em> He <em> wanted </em> it. </p>
<p>Fingers eagerly drumming on the sidetable, he began searching more specifically, looking for skirts in the different tones of the color palette he usually wore. He scrolled past one in a plain navy blue, then a blue that was too light—encroaching on Patton’s color—and a purple plaid that nevertheless made his lips twitch in a small smile as he thought of Virgil’s hoodie. </p>
<p>The scrolling grew almost rhythmic after a moment or two; scroll, scan the images. Scroll, scan the images. Scroll, scan. Scroll, scan. Scroll—</p>
<p>He stopped. Scrolled back up. Leaned closer to the screen, eyes widening, hand pressing to his mouth in a little <em> oh. </em> That— <em> that </em> was a skirt he could get behind. </p>
<p>He opened the skirt in a new tab and quickly edited his search term. </p>
<p><em> Galaxy pleated skirt, </em> he typed, and hit enter. </p>
<p>He couldn’t hold back a soft gasp as the results page loaded. It was <em> perfect. </em> Space theme; his color scheme; and that soft, twirly shape. His chest was buzzing with happiness and excitement as he clicked open a few options, fingers trembling. </p>
<p>One skirt particularly stood out to him; a knee-length skater skirt with wide, sharp pleats, the galaxy pattern on the fabric a blue-and-purple affair that matched Logan’s aesthetic so well. He could probably find a galaxy-patterned bowtie to match, and then a simple black button-down, perhaps with white stitching, and <em> oh, </em> wouldn’t that look nice? He copied the link and opened the “FamILY” groupchat with the other Sides. </p>
<p>It was <em> perfect, </em> it was <em> so </em> perfect and he wanted it so <em> badly, </em> this was going to be <em> amazing— </em></p>
<p>There were unread messages in the groupchat. Quite a lot of them. Logan pasted the link to the skirt, but scrolled up to read the messages before sending it. </p>
<p>Roman had sent about a dozen images of skirts, in varying shades of red and levels of drama, accompanied by emojis that were probably supposed to communicate how he felt about the skirts. Patton had reacted to every single one with a heart. </p>
<p>
  <em> DAD: Those look so good, Roman!  </em>
</p>
<p><em> Prince Roman: </em> ❤️💙✨💞❤️💙❤️💞💞💞💙💓❤️💙❤️ <em> Thank you!!!!!!!!!!! </em></p>
<p>
  <em> emonightmare: nice, princey.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> JeckyllandLied: Ah yes, I love putting my phone down for less than a minute and coming back to 17 unread messages that have nothing to do with me. Please keep it up.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> JeckyllandLied: Obviously I can’t endorse any of those, btw </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prince Roman: Wait is that a lie or? </em>
</p>
<p><em> Prince Roman: Thank you, Virgil!!!!!!!! </em>❤️✨💞💞💜💕✨✨💞💓💞✨💗💖💘✨</p>
<p>
  <em> emonightmare: jfc calm down pls </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> JeckyllandLied: Would an /s make you happy? @Prince Roman </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prince Roman: Yes!  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> JeckyllandLied: Hm. Pity.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prince Roman: &gt;:’((( !!!! </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> emonightmare: oh fuck off and leave him alone janus, he’s excited </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> JeckyllandLied: Ah yes, I forgot that being excited requires spamming *my* phone. How silly of me.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> dUkEyYyyyYYyY: i still think it’s unfair Daddy and Anus-Jay blocked me from sending pictures in this chat </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> JeckyllandLied: 3 strikes rule. Second chance rule. Third chance rule. You had opportunities to earn those privileges back, and you squandered them.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> DAD: Sorry, kiddo :(  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> dUkEyYyyyYYyY: no ur not lmao </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> dUkEyYyyyYYyY: anyway i found this eyescorchingly neon green tutu what do yall think of that </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> dUkEyYyyyYYyY: janus send the pic send the pic send the pic i want them to seeeeee </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> JeckyllandLied: [Image attachment]  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prince Roman: Okay that actually looks decent????? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> emonightmare: i mean it’s very u, can’t deny that  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> dUkEyYyyyYYyY: :}3 </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> DAD: Oh! That’s cute! Like a ballerina!  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> JeckyllandLied: Ballerino </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prince Roman: Ballerino!! </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> DAD: Oh my goodness, you both need to say “Jinx” now!  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prince Roman: Jinx! </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> JeckyllandLied: I don’t want to.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> DAD: :( </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> DAD: Ok, well does anyone else have any ideas yet?  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> emonightmare: no </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> DAD: Virgil, please? It looks so good!  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> emonightmare: im not showing anyone else yet </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> DAD: Ok, well that’s your choice, but it looks very great and you should totally show everyone! When you want to.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> JeckyllandLied: I’ve had a few ideas, but I will reveal them to none.  </em>
</p>
<p><em> dUkEyYyyyYYyY: sexy sexy thigh slit?? </em>🤪🤤</p>
<p>
  <em> JeckyllandLied: So you have suggested. Multiple times.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> DAD: What about you, Logan? I bet you’ve found some cool skirts! </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prince Roman: LOL, as IF.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> emonightmare: yikes. little harsh there. but he’s not wrong.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> DAD: What do you mean?  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> emonightmare: i mean. it doesn’t seem like something that’d be super up his alley. yk? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prince Roman: Listen, the nerd is great, but his fashion sense? Not it. He’s probably going to pick something conventional in navy blue or black just to get this over with.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> emonightmare: i reiterate: harsh but u have a point. don’t pressure him about it, pat. we don’t want to make him uncomfortable.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Prince Roman: Omg can you imagine if Logan DID wear something fancy for the skirt photoshoot though? Weird, right??? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> emonightmare: yeah sounds fake, probably janus in disguise lmao </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> JeckyllandLied: Oh come on, just because you’ve caught me a couple of times doesn’t mean I’m bad at disguises. I wouldn’t make a mistake as basic as THAT.  </em>
</p>
<p>That was the last message; it had been sent twenty-seven minutes ago. </p>
<p>Logan blinked hard several times until the suspicious dampness at the corner of his eyes receded. He pressed the backspace button and held it down until the link to the skirt he’d found was fully erased. The bubble of excitement in his chest had <em> thoroughly </em> popped and was settling into a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. </p>
<p>Logan bit his lip and began typing. </p>
<p>
  <em> Logan: Can we please talk about something else?  </em>
</p>
<p>He switched off his phone and tossed it across the room to land on his bed where he couldn’t hear the notifications buzz. He pulled his knees up close to his chest and hugged them with one arm, his other hand cradling the nearly-empty mug of hot chocolate. </p>
<p>“As IF”</p>
<p>“It doesn’t sound like something that’d be super up his alley” </p>
<p>“His fashion sense? Not it” </p>
<p>“Weird” </p>
<p>“Sounds fake” </p>
<p>Logan took a deep, shuddery breath and gulped down the last of the hot chocolate. He snapped his fingers and switched out of the onesie into his usual outfit, then gathered up the stack of memories and went to reshelve them, surreptitiously wiping at the corners of his eyes as he went. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Logan managed to push the issue of skirts to the back of his mind for a few days. Then Patton’s skirt arrived in the mail, and all anyone did for the rest of the day was gush over it; the next day, they did the photoshoot. </p>
<p>Patton looked very good in the skirt; it fit his personality and left him grinning and bouncing on the balls of his feet and doing little twirls all day. Roman demanded the next turn, and everybody agreed to it. Thomas said they could order the next skirt later in the week. </p>
<p>Seeing how Patton was absolutely <em> glowing </em> with excitement and happiness made a similar feeling stir in Logan’s chest, and he thought again of the galaxy skirt. Maybe—maybe he had overreacted. </p>
<p>When he had a chance, he excused himself and headed to his room. They could summon things for themselves, after all. Thomas wanted to order the skirts for real so that he could have them all for himself too, but there was no reason Logan couldn’t just <em> try </em> it and see. </p>
<p>Standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror he’d transformed his usually-smaller mirror into, Logan took a deep breath. The skirt, or the whole outfit he was imagining? </p>
<p>…Better to start with just the skirt. He closed his eyes and <em> tugged </em> at the strings of the Mind Palace. </p>
<p>A soft material brushed against his leg. His knees felt suddenly chilly. His heart began to pound. </p>
<p>Logan opened his eyes and gasped, both hands flying to his mouth. </p>
<p>It was every bit as wonderful as he’d imagined. He couldn’t help but change the rest of his outfit right away—crisp black shirt with white stitches on the seams; galaxy bowtie to match the skirt; white knee-high socks and black mary-janes. </p>
<p>And then he just <em> stared. </em> He looked—different. He was smiling, smiling so hard he couldn’t control it. The skater skirt hit just above his knee, the pleats folded tight in a way that made it fall in a lovely shape. The galaxy print was <em> perfect; </em> it tied his colors in without being too obvious or in-your-face about it. </p>
<p>He cautiously twirled just slightly back and forth, and an actual giggle escaped his lips when the skirt twirled around his knees before unfurling and settling to rest again. </p>
<p>This was—he searched for a comparison. It wasn’t quite as good as getting his own flavor of Crofters. But it was close. It was very close. </p>
<p>It was as good as when Thomas had gotten an A in a class he’d worked really hard on in college. That was a good comparison. The fluttering glee in his chest was the same then as now. This skirt certainly deserved an A grade. </p>
<p>Logan tentatively walked around his room, glancing down at the skirt as he went and then back to the mirror. The skirt swished just like he’d imagined it would, fabric brushing against his legs. It was—adequate. More than adequate, if he was being honest with himself. He made his way back to the mirror and simply stared for a few minutes, trying out different poses.</p>
<p>Maybe he could show the others. Maybe it would be fine. Maybe Thomas would order the skirt and they could do the photoshoot and maybe it would be amazing. </p>
<p>Logan was tempted to try it. He was on the verge of walking out the door into the Mind Palace commons. He had his hand on the doorknob. </p>
<p>But he hesitated for a second too long. </p>
<p><em> “I’m not a joke!” </em> he’d snapped once. He’d lost his normal white-knuckled control over himself for just a second, so close to tears or screaming or who knows what, because he <em> couldn’t </em> be a joke, he <em> couldn’t, </em> not to <em> them, </em> not to <em> Thomas, </em> because if he was a joke, what was he even worth? </p>
<p><em> “No one wants to be a joke, but a life free of jokes is incomplete!” </em> they’d all sung in the song only moments later. Even Thomas. They’d clearly <em> meant </em> it to be reassuring. </p>
<p>Logan felt he could perhaps be forgiven if confirmation that they did indeed view him as a joke wasn’t all that reassuring. </p>
<p>What would they think of him like this? </p>
<p>What would <em> Thomas </em> think of him like this? </p>
<p>Well. Roman had made it pretty clear in the stupid groupchat what <em> he’d </em> think of Logan’s choice in skirts. Virgil had agreed, and so had Janus. Remus and Patton hadn’t weighed in—and Patton’s silence, especially, spoke volumes. </p>
<p>…He didn’t really want to think about what Thomas might think of seeing him in this skirt, but he couldn’t help it. It could undo all his efforts to be taken seriously, all the times he had fought to be listened to, all the times he’d striven to show Thomas that his viewpoint was worthy of being heard and not ignored in favor of what any of the others said. That he had value outside of the facts he provided them—that his <em> opinions </em> had value as well. He was a joke to them, evidently, so he’d gotten rid of the things he enjoyed that always got played for laughs. He only wore his onesie when he was certain he was alone; he tried not to talk about Crofters to the others. He tried not to smile. Logan couldn’t let those sacrifices be for nothing. Not when they’d hurt so much. </p>
<p>No. Thomas couldn’t see this. None of them could. It was too important that he be taken seriously, and they already hardly cared for what he had to say half the time. He had to pick his battles. An outfit wasn’t worth giving up a chance at being listened to. He hardly cared about the skirt, anyway. It was silly. It didn’t matter. </p>
<p>Logan took his hand off the doorknob and went back to his desk, snapping his regular outfit back on. He ignored the pang in his heart at the skirt’s vanishment and the prickling at the corner of his eyes. He had work to do anyway. It was simply logical. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“Okay, everybody, I think it’s about time we ordered the next skirt outfit! Roman, I think you said you wanted to go next?” Thomas said. </p>
<p>Roman cast himself dramatically onto the couch, draping a hand across his forehead like he’d swooned. “I can’t <em> decide! </em> Such <em> pressure! </em> I’m debating between so many skirts and I’ve only gotten to the semifinals of eliminating options, I need more <em> time, </em> Thomas!” </p>
<p>“Okay!” Thomas said. “So do you want someone else to go, or do you want us to wait?” </p>
<p>“Someone else can go, it’s fine,” Roman said, heaving a sigh. </p>
<p>“Okay, well, how about you, Logan? Are you ready to choose?” Thomas suggested. </p>
<p>“Of course,” Logan said automatically, heart sinking. </p>
<p>“Great! Come show me what you want.” Thomas patted the seat on the couch next to him. </p>
<p>“Pff. I doubt he even wants to participate. He’s the one who always says my ideas are stupid,” Roman commented from the other end of the couch. </p>
<p>“If I did not want to participate, I would say so, Roman. I am merely… indifferent. I’m afraid I haven’t put much thought into the matter of what skirt I would like,” Logan said lightly as he sat beside Thomas, proud of the way his voice didn’t shake at all, ignoring the sick feeling in his throat and stomach at Roman’s words. </p>
<p>Janus raised a single eyebrow at him, clearly detecting the obvious lie. Logan shook his head slightly, and Janus twitched one shoulder in a shrug, letting it slide. </p>
<p>Nobody else seemed to have noticed the silent exchange. “That’s alright,” Thomas said. “Have you got an idea of what you’re looking for?” </p>
<p>Logan shrugged. “Something conventional, I suppose. Not too flashy.” </p>
<p>Thomas looked thoughtful, staring at the laptop with a furrowed brow.</p>
<p>“Ooh!” Patton put in, leaning on the back of the sofa. “What about a pencil skirt?” </p>
<p>Virgil made an approving noise. “Dude, you’d look fantastic in one of those. It’s totally right up your alley.” </p>
<p>“The fans have actually been suggesting that!” Roman put in. </p>
<p>Not trusting himself to speak, Logan nodded. After a pause that was brief enough it seemed to slide by unnoticed, he said, “That sounds fine.” </p>
<p>“I love that idea!” Thomas approved, typing into the search bar. </p>
<p>It took surprisingly little input from Logan to get his own skirt selected; a simple navy blue affair. One of the ones he’d originally looked at, actually. Exactly what would be expected from him. It was simply logical. </p>
<p>“We should style your outfit now!” Thomas suggested. </p>
<p>Logan allowed himself to give some input on the style, especially the vest and glasses—the paisley texture on the satin fabric did look quite appealing, he had to admit, and the cat-eye shape of the glasses was something he’d been eyeing for a while—but mostly, he made neutral noises of assent and let the group do the deciding for him. Thomas gave him a funny look after a few minutes of this, but Logan pretended not to notice. </p>
<p>“Do these all look good?” Thomas asked after they were done, showing Logan the cart.</p>
<p>Logan scrolled through, even though he already knew everything they’d just put in it. </p>
<p>He had to admit, this was a nice outfit. He liked it, as a general thing. The librarian look had been one of his own ideas. He would wear it even aside from a photoshoot. </p>
<p>But it still wasn’t the one he would have picked for this occasion if anyone had actually <em> listened.  </em></p>
<p>“That is adequate,” he said quietly, handing the computer back to Thomas. </p>
<p>“Sounds fantastic, buddy!” Thomas placed the order. “How are you feeling about this?” he asked after the others had dispersed somewhat across the apartment and most were no longer within direct earshot. </p>
<p>Logan blinked at him. “Feeling? Thomas, we’ve talked about this,” he said, avoiding the question and aiming for levity. “You know I don’t deal in things as messy as <em> feelings. </em> Anyway, I’m fine. This will be a not-unpleasant exercise.” </p>
<p>Thomas frowned, but nodded. “Okay. Let me know if you need anything, okay?” </p>
<p>“Yes, I need you to go to sleep on time,” Logan responded automatically.</p>
<p>“Never,” Thomas said playfully. He grinned. “You’re great, Logan.” </p>
<p>Logan half smiled. “Thank you.” He sank out. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>The skirt arrived a week later. Logan had to admit, it looked good on him. The other Sides heaped praise upon him, of course; Roman even told him he looked “fierce.” Logan rather liked that, and it somewhat eased the sting of… all the other things Roman had said about Logan and skirts over the past couple of weeks. Somewhat. </p>
<p>He tried to channel that “fierce” look in the photoshoot. Held himself tense and unimpressed, raising his eyebrows as he posed with a pencil or a book or his hands on his hips. It was fun. It <em> was! </em> He should by all means be enjoying this, and he <em> was, </em> kind of. But the bitter knowledge of what he was missing out on overshadowed the enjoyment and made it so hard to feel good. He knew he should refocus, let missed opportunities be bygones and work with what he had, but every time he tried to be satisfied with this, he thought again of the galaxy skirt and the crawling uncomfortable feeling in his chest got worse. By the end of the photoshoot, Logan wasn’t sure how he was holding himself together at all. Nevertheless, the others praised him, told him he’d done a great job, and Thomas echoed their sentiments. He nodded, thanked them appropriately, and excused himself as soon as possible. </p>
<p>He locked the door to his room behind himself, snapping his fingers to transform his outfit into the galaxy skirt one. He stared at himself in the wide mirror across the room. Slowly he wrapped his arms around himself, the lump in his throat painful and large. </p>
<p>Hot tears spilled down his cheeks, startling him; they didn’t stop welling up, the flow of scalding tears only increasing as his nose began to stuff up. He quietly sank to the ground, pulling his knees up against his chest and hugging them as he began to cry. The silent tears quickly turned into sobs that he couldn’t suppress, couldn’t make small and quiet no matter how he tried; sobs that shook his body and left his throat hoarse and scratchy and his lungs gasping for breath. He wiped at his eyes and nose over and over again, gasping gulps of air between sobs, but it was futile; any dampness he cleaned away was only replaced twice over. </p>
<p>He’d heard that crying was supposed to be cathartic. That you were supposed to feel better afterwards. But no matter how much he cried, the painful lump of shame and regret in his chest didn’t get smaller. </p>
<p>Maybe, he thought bitterly as his sobs began to lessen and his racing jumbled thoughts began to slow and the ache in his chest <em> still </em> didn’t feel any better, maybe it was because he wasn’t supposed to <em> have </em> all these stupid <em> feelings. </em> He wasn’t supposed to care about a skirt that swished against his knees. He was <em> Logic, </em> he was only supposed to care about important things. Things that were important for Thomas. A pleated galaxy skirt was not one of them. It didn’t <em> matter </em> in the grand scheme of things. It was just a piece of fabric, like any other. It didn’t matter. It <em> shouldn’t </em> matter. This shouldn’t be a big deal to him, and if it was, then it was his own fault that he felt so bad about it. </p>
<p>Logan wiped his eyes. He transformed his outfit back into his regular clothes and snapped away the mess of tears and snot on his face, then crossed to the mirror and straightened his tie, ignoring the slight tremble in his hands, before shrinking the mirror down to its usual, more practical size. With a mere thought, he could feel his library of memories rearranging itself, sending all Thomas’s memories about skater skirts away from the other skirt memories to a shelf in the outermost regions of the library, where it would be hardest to get to. Which was good. Since those memories were irrelevant now. He didn’t need them at all. This whole idea had been a mistake. He should have let the others be in charge of this from the start; they had more expertise than him on the subject, after all. If he hadn’t gotten emotionally invested in the first place, he wouldn’t have a problem. This was his own fault. And he didn’t care, anyway. </p>
<p>It was simply logical.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I may write a sequel someday that's just lots of Logan-centric h/c to make it all better, but no promises. </p>
<p> <br/>i thrive on kudos and comments &lt;3 </p>
<p>come hang out with me on tumblr <a href="https://iclaimedtobethebetterbard.tumblr.com">@iclaimedtobethebetterbard</a> and tiktok <a href="https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMeLJ8BLb/">@iclaimed2bethebetterbard</a> !</p>
<p>Edit: Y'ALL someone made FANART of this piece and it's SO GOOD, it PERFECTLY captures the vibe I was imagining!! Check it out on <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/CM-Xa9GhtHc/?igshid=fs7pul62kb84"> Instagram</a> and <a href="https://oldkamelle.tumblr.com/post/646938605281050624/maybe-he-thought-bitterly-as-his-sobs-began-to"> Tumblr</a> !!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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